Kisses in the Snow
by SearchingForMercury
Summary: Roderich had been warm, cozy, and most importantly - sleeping. However, a few taps at the window and a note taped to his second-story room has him curious as to what his neighbor wants.


Roderich had been woken up by many things before. There had been his mother coming in to click on the lights, the alarm clock during the school semester, and of course the rare times where he could just open his eyes and realize he had gotten exactly the amount of sleep his body needed. He had not, however, woken up to the sound of sporadic taps at his window. They wouldn't stop. There would be a long pause and he would drift back to whatever dream he had been nestled in before, then another sharp tap to his window. Realizing it would not stop unless he did something - he wasn't sure what that was supposed to be, as sleep still had a pull on his brain - Roderich stood up and threw back the curtains.

Blinding white seared into his eyeballs, making him look away until he could see his room again. He squinted at the world outside. It must have snowed during the night. A vague memory of his mother talking to him over dinner about the weather came to him, but it had been such a casual mention, he hadn't thought much of it. And he still wouldn't have if it weren't for the note taped to his window. With a scribble-y handwriting that was half familiar and probably half from the cold, it read: _Meet me outside_. There was only one person who could have done this - his neighbor, Gilbert.

First off, his room was on the second floor. The tree outside had snow missing in patches and deep gouges in the snow from where he could have shuffled around the base gave it away. They led away and Roderich guessed that Gilbert had ran when the curtains were pulled. Second, it looked most like his handwriting. With a sigh, he pulled open his closet and began looking for his snow attire. There was only one reason Gilbert wanted to drag him out from his cozy, warm room and into the frigid air. And there was only one reason Roderich was willing to give in to his command.

He left his own note to his parents on the kitchen table - his own handwriting full of loops and swirls, but not any less unreadable - and opened his front door. The wind began blowing the snow inside. With a careful hop, as snow had layered in front of the door and he certainly did not want his parents yelling at him for letting it in, he closed the door behind him.

Ugh. The cold. Snow.

He didn't get much time to scowl at the sky or contemplate why he despised it so much because he was suddenly thwacked in the face with a lot of it. His body shuddered as the snow slid down his neck.

"Too slow!" Gilbert shouted while laughing. With round, red cheeks and sticky outy ears, it was like they were children again. The only difference was Gilbert's height.

"If you don't wear a hat, your ears will fall off," Roderich called out to him, feeling the smile pulling at his mouth. He had always told him that whenever he caught him without one, stemming from something his father told him about frostbite.

Gilbert's expression stuck for a moment, a simple smile without teeth. Then he jerked his head towards his house. " _Lass uns gehen_!"

Roderich paused in following him. "You've gotten better," he said. While he was fluent in German and English, being taught both since he was little, Gilbert was not. Before he left for military school, Gilbert had announced his interest in the language - probably due to having German heritage.

The other boy grinned. " _Wirklich_?" he asked and waggled his eyebrows.

" _Na ja, aber du hast einen langen Weg zu gehen_ ," Roderich replied, smiling to himself when he saw Gilbert's eyebrows come together. The other boy mouthed out the words, his red eyes traveling upwards.

"I got 'yes' and 'you' and 'go,'" Gilbert said, the corners of his mouth tugging down. Roderich recognized it as the face he made when bothered by something he only understood partially, whether it was a math equation, road directions, or abstract art.

Roderich's smile grew a little.

After trudging through the snow, they came upon the thing Gilbert had wanted him to see. A fort made of snow was built in Gilbert's backyard. It was impressive, really, with details carved out in the packed snow and narrow windows all roughly the same size. He had made it look like it was either wood or metal, complete with indents for nails, and it curved a little towards the top, so one could take shelter without being threatened from above. Icicles served as a spiked barrier in places.

"How long were you out here?" he asked.

Gilbert only grinned, but it reminded Roderich of the smilies he would often send with emails - :] - just with teeth. Roderich had established long ago that his neighbor was crazy. He never knew the depth of his insanity and, if he was being frank, he probably never would. Gilbert was the sort of kid who could watch a movie and remember everything while plotting the things he wanted to do on _Harvest Moon_ \- he had shown him his army of alpacas, the different outfits he had acquired, his love interest. Roderich wasn't one for games himself, but he now had the knowledge of the inner workings of the game thanks to various links Gilbert had sent his way. Little animated pictures of some guy with glasses who was apparently a douche and cut hair.

"So," Roderich said, turning back to the fort. He watched his breath fog out in front of him. "You woke me up, had me come all the way out here, just to show me this? Couldn't it have waited until later?"

"Of course not," Gilbert replied. "You need to make a fort too."

Roderich sighed. "Gilbert-" A bunch of snow hit him in his face. "GILBERT."

"What'cha gonna do about it?" he teased.

He rubbed at his face, but more snow took its place.

" _Gilbert, I swear to God_ -" He was pelted with more snow.

"Ooh, not good to swear to God, y'know," Gilbert continued, dancing around him as he would crouch down to gather snow into his glove and whirl it at him.

So Roderich made his own snowball, but he had never been good at sports and Gilbert just kept _moving_ , it wasn't really his fault it missed by a good yard. Or two.

Gilbert burst out laughing. "Really?" he asked. " _Really_?"

Roderich readjusted his glasses; water was dripping from them. It was cold. Really cold. He had ice water soaking through his turtleneck and creeping up his sleeves from where the jacket and his gloves met and sometimes parted. So he threw another one. And it still missed his target. He started to just fling snow at random, figuring it couldn't hurt his chances.

Gilbert began to really dance - shook his hips, jumped from one spot to the next. It was infuriating. If he just stood still for _one second_ , he was sure he could get him. "Miss me, miss me," he taunted and by God, if his dancing hadn't been annoying before, _this_ sure was. He dodged a better aimed snowball. And by better aimed, it was probably just luck. "Now you gotta kiss me!"

Roderich stopped, huffing. His breath swirled around him, threatening to fog up his glasses. "What are we, _five_?" he asked.

Gilbert grinned. "Says the one who throws like a duck," he replied.

" _That doesn't even make sense_ ," Roderich forced out. This guy. Really. _Really_.

"Sure it does. Ducks can't throw and neither can you!" he ended his sentence with more snow in Roderich's face.

"Cut it out!" Roderich sputtered, shaking his head. His efforts to stay warm were being thrown out. His hat was probably a soggy mess, but he didn't really want to deal with it at the moment. Gilbert was still throwing snow from various angles, dodging and ducking like Roderich was throwing back. Since he obviously could not land a hit on his neighbor, Roderich did the next best thing. He charged.

Gilbert let out a soft sort of 'oof' noise as they went crashing right through the fort. With Gilbert underneath him, Roderich immediately started burying the other boy's face with snow. The adrenaline left him feeling spent, with a light head, and he sat back, breathing heavy. Gilbert pushed away the snow and Roderich expected him to look angry, but he didn't. There was a moment where he was smiling, and it was almost soft, before it turned into a smirk.

"Who is the five year old now?" he said, eyebrow raised. He sat up a little, despite Roderich seated on his legs. If he was trying to kick him off, to gain the upper hand, he had another thought coming. Roderich wasn't going anywhere. "But seriously, did you miss me while I was gone?"

He wasn't expecting that. Thinking about it, sure, it had come as a surprise. Who _wouldn't_ be, hearing that the kid he grew up with, the neighbor with a penchant for teasing and grand adventures, going off to a boarding school. And it wasn't just _any_ boarding school, it was a _military_ boarding school. The skinny guy with weird red eyes, the one who didn't care if his adventures ended with him in pain, who could rattle off swear words without remorse, who would make him play shooter games with him with only a brief explanation before blasting his head off. Roderich didn't get it at the time and he still didn't, not entirely, but he had accepted it.

"You send far too many emails for me to miss you," Roderich replied. There were the ones full of links, sending him to funny pictures of dogs or animated clips of television shows. There were the ones written up like diary entries, explaining how the teachers there thought he must be possessed or of the devil. Then there were the ones that simply asked for a phone call.

"Yeah," Gilbert said with a sigh. "I do." He just nodded with an expression that was almost sarcastically regretful for moment. Then the world went spinning and Roderich was suddenly looking up at the sky, up at Gilbert's grin, and feeling the cold beneath his head. His hat was definitely useless.

"Gilbert, let me up," he said, not wanting the snow to creep into other places, like his back. Oh God, not his back. He tried bucking his hips, to launch the other boy off of him, but that only made Gilbert's grin stretch even wider. He also tried pushing, twisting, wriggling, but Gilbert stayed put.

He just stared at Roderich, and not just because the whole thing was so funny. His eyes were still smiling - crinkled up and warm, despite the way the grin had faded into a small smile. He licked his lips and took a sharp breath in, like he was planning on holding his breath or something. Then he dipped his head down and Roderich thought he was going to head butt him for some reason, so he closed his eyes for the impact, but instead it was Gilbert pressing his lips against Roderich's. And they were cold.

Gilbert pulled back and his eyes were full of something, but Roderich didn't have time to figure it out because at that moment, a blanket of snow dropped on them from the tree they were under. Gilbert let out an almost inhuman shriek and once Roderich had wiped the snow off of his face and sat up, he could see the other boy jumping around, swatting at the back of his jacket.

The laugh bubbled out before he even realized it was happening. He covered his mouth with a glove, but it wouldn't stop, so he just kept laughing. Gilbert stopped to stare, to frown, before his own eyebrows wiggled and he joined in. He dropped down next to him, leaning up against Roderich as they both shook from the laughter and not being able to breathe.

"Oh my God," Roderich said, drawing in some air. He took off his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

Gilbert looked at him and broke out in another fit of giggles. Eventually they subsided.

Roderich hadn't really thought about it, but it sort of made sense. Gilbert boasted about having other friends, like an Antonio and a Francis and the mayhem they would get into with their teachers, but he had always been a little less...rough with Roderich. Gilbert had always been the one to climb the trees, to take the falls, to thwack spiders in Roderich's room. But Roderich had always thought it was just Gilbert's childhood desire to be a knight shining through; it had been his Halloween costume for seven years.

The weight against him moved and left - Gilbert stood up and, with a twist of his mouth, held out a hand. Roderich accepted and was pulled to his feet. Gilbert looked away, swinging his arms, eyebrows furrowed. "So I'm hungry. I don't know about you, but I haven't had breakfast yet," he announced.

"I haven't either," Roderich said. Gee, this wasn't awkward or anything. Standing around Gilbert's parents' backyard.

"Well, we've got some danishes inside," Gilbert said. "You can come if you want. Or you can go eat at your house." He gave a little shrug. "I don't care either way. I probably woke my parents up anyways."

 _Mine too_ , Roderich wanted to say. Truth be told, it felt like an ultimatum - he could either choose to go with Gilbert, feed into this...crush of his or whatever it was, or he could go home and by doing so, deny Gilbert's feelings and possibly his friendship as well. Their relationship built up from years of living next to each other, the layers of memories caked up - he couldn't imagine that all just sliding away.

"What kind of danishes?" Roderich asked.

Gilbert paused, his tense expression sort of melting away. "Cheese. And ones with almonds, I think," he replied, a crooked smile slipping in place. "Maybe ones with cherries. We might've eaten them already."

Roderich nodded, pretending to look thoughtful. At least, that's what he hoped it came off as. "Sounds good to me," he said. He hadn't hated the kiss. If that's what Gilbert wanted, to branch off their old relationship into something familiar, yet new, Roderich imagined it could be pleasant. He was comfortable with Gilbert. Enough that he would crawl out of his nice, warm house to play in the snow. Enough to let him into his room, to share a toothbrush if he forgot his. "Lead the way."

Relief and something else, something even softer, settled down on Gilbert's face. "We'll have to take our jackets and things off before we go inside. My mom'll get all sorts of crazy if we bring in snow. If we're quick, we can dump them in the bathroom," he said as they were striding towards the sliding door at the back.

Roderich wanted to do something, to reach out, maybe. Grab his hand, reassure him even more. Pull him into a hug, ask about his games, tell him that he doesn't need to ask for a phone call, that he could just call anytime. That they could write letters, even. That might be something. If Roderich asked, he was sure his parents would let him get a smartphone. Then they could swap silly pictures and talk about them in the chat bubble on the computer.

But he didn't. They reached the door, and Roderich hadn't done anything.

Once they had shed their outer layers, Roderich sat at the table he knew almost as well as his own. The _Eckbank_ , as it were. He didn't know an English equivalent other than to describe it as a table with a wraparound bench that you set in a corner. The cuckoo clock was still the same, though it wasn't moving - they probably turned it off so it wouldn't chime at night. Plants and religious items were still a prominent theme in the decorating - a large colored painting of Jesus and Mary was hung up next to the telephone and a cross was nailed to the wall above the window. Both had always looked old, to Roderich, maybe something passed down through the family.

Gilbert went about gathering up the food and dishes, setting them up on the table. The plastic tin made a wobbly noise when he pried it off - he sure wasn't trying to keep quiet. Gilbert's parents were bound to wake up sooner or later. It was well after nine, if the digital clock on the microwave was correct.

It was good to be inside, good to be warm. He could hear the furnace blowing the wonderful warm air throughout the house. He accepted his plate and glass full of milk. Napkins were always on the table. And the danishes were delicious. The almond ones were his favorite. Next came cheese. The cherry ones were alright, but you always ran the risk of getting a tart one.

Gilbert reached out and took Roderich's free hand in his, on the table. Just Gilbert's hand on top of his. His fingers were still cold, Roderich noticed, as they moved feather-light against his skin. And he was okay with it. The danish was good, the house was warm, and he was in a far better mood than when he was getting pummeled with snow. This could work.


End file.
